


Flight

by TheMulletWhisperer



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Escape, F/M, Gen, Genuine question guys, I can't ever come up with decent tags, LIKE EVER, Slow Burn, plot heavy, plot set up, why are tags so fucking hard to come up with?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 02:58:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15940391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMulletWhisperer/pseuds/TheMulletWhisperer
Summary: Ripped from her home by an uncaring Dominion unhappy with her parent's actions, Erelin is separated from her family and finds herself alone in a world completely alien to her--the Province of Skyrim.





	Flight

**Author's Note:**

> This is just sort of the introductory work to a new ship I'm hoping to write in the future. If you read you'll know which one!
> 
> Thanks to [Veanna Blue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeannaBlue) for giving me some constructive criticism on this character.

“Faster, faster!” Erelin tripped over a fallen vase as a voice from somewhere ahead of the smoke called her. Her feet thumped against the charred boards as she ran across the floor, flames licking at the walls and peeling away the wallpaper, the stones of the archways scorched black. 

As she cleared the other side of the thick haze she nearly barreled straight into her brother, grabbing him by the shoulders and coughing loudly. “Get down, go go!” He shouted over the roaring flame and nearly shoved her into the escape hatch before following behind himself, closing off the tunnel from the smoke. 

“We’re not out of this yet.” He pushed Erelin forward, forcing her to keep pace with him as they ran through the tunnel, the fresh footprints of the rest of her family in the dust before her. “Are you okay, sister?” He spoke between gasps for breath, the smoke having done a number on his lungs. 

Erelin didn’t respond, stumbling along with him until they reached the end of the tunnel, moonlight streaming through and rain saturating the stone below. She was the first to climb the steel-runged ladder, followed closely by her brother. 

A hand closed around her wrist and pulled her up into a hug, the familiar metallic scent of her father’s beard filling her nose. “Thank the gods, I thought you were dead.” He spoke softly into her ear before dropping her to do the same for her brother. 

The Altmer turned around and stared up at the house and the tableau arranged in front of it. The family’s house--a moderately sized manor--was in flames, the roof collapsing in on itself and sending a cloud of embers and ash into the air, bright against the night sky. Before it stood a large, hastily-constructed archway from which a flayed man hung, the words  _ “Race Traitor”  _ carved on either side of his arms. 

Erelin covered her mouth trying to hold down the bile rising in her throat before her mother grabbed her, holding her close to her chest. “Shh, child, it will be alright.” Her voice was soothing despite the fear behind it. For the first time that night, her daughter spoke.

“Why did they do this?”

 

-/-

 

The salty water of the docks lapped at the pier. Beneath the crystal-clear surface were several small, curious fish and a few crabs, but the dock’s activity scared off most bigger game. Although it was the early hours of the morning, many workers still milled about, moving crates and hauls of fish from their boats. 

“Come faster, Erelin, the sun is almost above.” Ocanim motioned her to follow their parents, her steps quickening along the soaking planks. Pircalmo and Nirite arrived quickly to their destination, a large ship bearing a plain white sail with little weather damage. 

As the two siblings arrived, Erelin caught the conversation her parents were having with the swarthy, bearded Altmer, looking cool as a sea cucumber as he spoke to the outlaws. “Yes of course I can help Pircalmo, I don’t go back on my promises.” The mer whispered, “I’ll need to load you up soon though, so say your goodbyes.” He motioned to the two behind them as they turned their back to him and approached their children. 

“Ocanim, Erelin,” Her father began, glancing into the eyes of his daughter. “I hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but it has. They learned of the shipments and we have no other choice.” The fear built in her chest as he continued, a cold sweat breaking out on her forehead. “Siridor will take us somewhere safe, but we must leave now.” Momentarily, her fear subsided before he continued, bringing home the true blow. “I’m afraid…” He looked at his wife, motioning for her to continue. 

“We cannot go together. We will be separated across Tamriel for our own safety. I don’t know where we’re all going, but” she reached out and took the hands of both of her children, her soft olive eyes bristling with tears, “I love you both, know that. I always will.”

Erelin squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath, squeezing her mother’s hands harder. “I love you, mum.” She spoke in a quiet, reserved voice, trying to stave off tears for the sake of being the strong one. Ocanim, on the other hand, was bawling his eyes out, clinging to his father like he was about to die. 

“Be safe, my dear. Perhaps once this is over we may see each other again.” Nirite ran her thumb across Erelin’s knuckles and stepped back as Siridor took her by the shoulder. 

“I’m sorry, friends, but we really must go, Dominion patrols will start any moment.” He escorted her toward the large brigantine as the others were taken separately by the crew of three other ships. Erelin peered behind her at her family for one last time before boarding the ship and being taken beneath the deck, pressing her palm against her eyes and taking a shaky breath.

 

-/-

 

“Just stay quiet in here, whatever you do.” Siridor spoke to Erelin in a soft voice as she climbed into the shipping crate, curling up in the bottom and arching her back to make herself short enough to fit. 

“Why do we have to do this?” She spoke up to him, the perpetual worry that had plagued her the past months of the journey coming back once again, this time stronger. 

“We’ve made port in Haafingar, the Dominion has a very large presence here.” He grabbed the lid of the crate, along with a hammer and some nails. “You’ll be loaded onto a shipping cart bound for Karthwasten marked as a shipment of Altmeri ores for the benefit of the local Thalmor commander, Ondoremore or something. Once you’re there, you’ll be escorted about halfway to Riften by Imperial soldiers before they’ll hand you off to Stormcloak soldiers to make the rest of the trip.” 

The two stared at one another in silence for a few moments as she tried to process what he’d said before finally speaking up. “Okay.” She said in a small voice, still confused and scared as ever. 

“Okay.” He muttered, fitting the lid of the crate over the top of her and hammering the nails into the corners, the only light now from the air holes drilled into the sides. “It’s been good travelling with you, Erelin. Quiet, but good. Be safe, we’ll likely never see one another again.” He spoke through the side of the box as he lifted her, carrying the crate above deck and letting the salt air once again filter through to her. 

 

-/-

 

“Come on through, elf.” The guard sneered and pushed her papers back against her chest with extensive force as she avoided eye contact with the man who’d been rude to her from the start. He waved behind him to the soldier at the gates who opened one of the heavy doors, allowing her through to the city. 

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes and letting the somewhat stale and humid air wash over her. Even so, nothing had ever felt quite so refreshing as to know she was finally done running. 

Opening the bag she’d been provided, she rummaged around for the coins given to her by Siridor. ‘Enough for a tavern and a whore’, he’d said. Not that she had much interest in the latter. She shifted her feet and closed the bag, continuing deeper into the city. At dusk, the streets were somewhat deserted, yet the sound of a hammer on an anvil caught her ear, drawing her away from the door of the quaint little tavern and toward the noise. 

Hiding behind the far door of the tavern, she watched the man--who she could only assume to be a Nord--hammer away at a length of red-hot iron, his face illuminated by the dimming coal of the forge. His face was heavyset but not unattractive, the dirt and soot giving him a rugged appearance, marred only slightly by the terrible mustache that matched his blond hair. 

Erelin shifted a bit and looked away for a moment, making sure she wasn’t seen, before checking back in on the smith, who seemed to be packing up his tools for the night. Nonetheless, she watched him with interest until he retired inside.

Smiling softly, she pulled away from the wall and stepped around to open the door to the tavern. Finally, something here looked good to her.


End file.
